Crybaby
by Pineapple Pen
Summary: Nagi had never cried in front of anyone before; but then why did they always call her the crybaby?


**Let me just say that this is not intended as a 6996 fic. I'm a 6918 fangirl and I always will be. However, if you're into the Mukuro/Chrome pairing, you may interpret this as you wish. Really, I see this more as an origins fic for Chrome who, for some reason, has been growing on me lately. **

**I don't know how many times I almost wrote Chrome rather than Nagi at the begining. I guess it's just a habit to call her that -_-'  
**

**Anywhoo, please enjoy! (:**

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**Crybaby  
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She had always been a quiet girl; keeping herself to herself, trying to never be a burden on others. Rather than laugh and gossip like the other girls her age, she would sit by herself in solitude, staring out of the window with her chin resting on her hand. She didn't bring attention to herself. She just blended in.

Nagi didn't know how she had earned the nickname 'crybaby'.

Tears were not something to be ashamed of, she had decided. Yet she never cried in front of people. That would draw attention to herself, and she had always been terribly shy. Tears were best kept for the privacy of her bedroom where she could curl up with a stuffed toy for comfort and try to forget about whatever had upset her.

She tried hard to blend in with the crowd, not doing anything that would draw attention of others to herself. That meant that she distanced herself from anyone that she might have called friend. There was no one there to laugh with her; no one there smile or to hold her hand. Her father – her _real_ father – might have done that once upon time, but he was long dead. Died when she was just a baby, no older than two years old. Since then she was stuck when her mother and her string of lovers until she settled down with the man Nagi would have to call her stepfather.

Her mother wanted nothing to do with her, like so many others. Even her imaginary friends disliked her after a while, and she was sure that there had to be something wrong with that.

Reality was unkind to her, so she retreated to her imagination. Her own little world. To daydream was to escape, and she so did love to escape. Her imagination was to her the most beautiful place. She could create anything with just a thought and do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. Until she was forcefully snapped out of it by a clip around the head by her stepfather, or by her teacher shouting her name in class. Then everyone would laugh, call her 'daydream crybaby' and she would lower her head with a blush on her face.

Why was she a crybaby?

Sometimes, she would run too far with her imagination. She would be lying in bed, looking up at her plain ceiling with a black face. Her mother had never really allowed her to make her room her own whenever they moved houses. It was 'tacky' according to her glamorous mother. Walls would be either off white or beige or, on very rare occasions, a pale blue and they would stay that way to preserve the 'modern' look. A calender and an alarm clock would be allowed, as would shelves of books and the occasional photograph. Nagi had no photographs she would want to look at, but she did have drawings of her imagination on paper. They were hid in some of the books she never read. Her mother didn't like her drawings. She said it was weird. Nagi liked to think it was abstract.

It would be one of these nights were Nagi would question her own sanity. The ceiling was dull, of that she was certain of. But sometimes...sometimes she would be thinking of the stars, and what it would be like to be outside to look at them at her leisure. What it would be like to lie on her back in the grass on a warm summers night and stare up at the stars, pointing out the pretty ones to herself.

And there they would be.

Her ceiling would turn black blue dotted with tiny vivid twinkles – some shining brighter than others. Sometimes one would shoot by and Nagi would make a wish, a tiny smile crossing her face as she watched the stars, lying on the grass, her back slightly damp by the dew. Her fingers would curl into the blades, her nails gathering dirt. A light gust of wind would sweep by, ruffling her hair but not unwelcome in the warm air. It would make the stray papers on her bookshelf rustle a little.

Then realization would dawn on her. She wasn't dreaming and she wasn't imagining. Her eyes were quite open, so she had definitely not retreated inside to her imagination. She would be seeing this while she was awake. With a blink, the stars, the grass and the wind would vanish. Nagi would be lying on her bed, over the covers because it was too warm in her room, with her pajama pants rolled up into shorts and her fingers curled into grass that was no longer there.

She would never tell anyone about these hallucinations of hers, but it was getting harder and harder to hide them. Sometimes when she saw one, she swore that others could see them too but no one else mentioned them so she didn't either. It wasn't like she had anyone to mention them too anyway, even when the more peculiar ones showed up.

There was one time when she was walking obediently behind her mother and stepfather – two paces behind, as requested ('I don't want such a dull girl hovering around me all the time') when a flash of warm colors caught her eyes. Nagi was immediately enthralled by the swirls of reds and yellows and oranges that were splattered on the poster for a traveling circus. The clown on the picture looked so happy as he juggled his multicolored balls, balancing on a unicycle. How beautiful, Nagi remembered thinking with the smallest of smiles on her lips.

Then, in the corner of her eye, something bright and colorful moved. Curious, she turned to look and her mouth dropped as she looked across the empty road. The clown, fleshed out to reality, was cycling his unicycle dangerously, throwing his balls and grinning a grin from ear to ear. His suit was a mixture of red, yellow and orange and his face was painted white with swirls of color dotting and lining his features. Nagi blinked in shock and turned back to the poster to compare the picture with the clown she saw in front of her. When she turned back, the clown was gone.

'Nagi,' her mother called. And she would run to her, trying to act like she had seen nothing out of the ordinary.

It was her 'hallucinations' that completely changed her life.

Having no friends at school, she was a prime target for the other girls. She was different to them and, according to many thirteen year old girls, anything different was wrong. There was no physical violence involved. Just childish bullying. They teased her, she ignored them; they pulled her hair, she ignored them; they flipped her skirt, she would blush but she would still ignore them. They usually got bored after a while. Nagi was boring. Nagi was no fun. She was plain, with her lank purple hair always in her face, and the uniform that didn't quite fit her. And, of course, she was a crybaby.

But she never cried.

She usually walked home from school – her mother having better things to do than pick up her only child – and always held her bag tightly to her chest. It stopped the boys from taking it from her. When they did, she would close her eyes and wait until they had had their fun. Then, she would trudge silently towards the discarded bag and slowly pick up all her books, her notepad and her pens and pencils, half lost in her own world. It couldn't bother her if she was in a different place.

The cat that was sat in the middle of the road was gray. Nagi noticed the little feline immediately because she had never seen it before. She had always loved animals. They didn't judge or tease her or call her names that made no sense. Cats were among her favorites – after birds, of course. She loved birds.

Her brows furrowed and she frowned at the cat. It was sat quite contently licking it's paw, uncaring that a car could come by at any time and splatter it across the road. It shouldn't be in the road, Nagi said to herself. It could get hurt.

'Please move, kitty,' she called. Her voice was too quiet. Nagi didn't like to yell. It drew attention to her.

The cat obnoxiously ignored her call and Nagi bit her lip. Her eyebrows creased and she looked around. Maybe someone else could help the cat. But no. There were some girls from her school walking down the path but they were too far away. Besides, they didn't like Nagi much. She didn't fit in with their little clique.

This time, Nagi called a little louder – as loud as she dared, and the cat languidly looked up at her. It stared at her with it's bright yellow eyes before once again ignoring her to lick it's paw once more. Nagi was getting really worried now. What if a car came? Hesitantly, Nagi looked behind her at the local veterinary clinic. Maybe they could help with the stubborn feline.

At the window there was a poster of a gray cat with bright yellow eyes. It was advertising flea treatment.

She didn't have time to notice the similarities of the poster with the little cat in the road, because she heard the car before she saw it. Eyes widening, she snapped her head towards the road to stare at the car coming up fast from down the road. Much too fast for a street road. Panicking now, she looked at the cat.

'Move!' she called – even louder than she would usually dare. The girls from her school were in hearing range now and began giggling at her attempts to move the cat without putting herself in danger.

But there was no time for that anymore. Forgetting about her own mortality, Nagi threw her bag down and darted out into the road. In her frenzied state, she didn't even think about moving the cat gently. With a swing of her leg, she kicked the feline away almost violently. As the cat yowled, she breathed a sigh of relief (though she knew that she would feel guilty about the kick later).

The cat managed to avoid the car. Nagi didn't.

Before she knew it, steel crashed into her side, immediately knocking the wind out of her. She had no time to register the pain before she was thrown against the windshield of the car. It was blue. Sleek. A man's car, her mind told her as she was forcefully rolled over the car. Half of the world went red with blood, but she took no notice of that and she took no notice of her legs, which were both bent at odd angles. Her mind had gone white, but she wasn't sure if it was from the pain that she had yet to feel or the shock of being hit by a car.

The blue sleek man's car skidded to an abrupt halt and Nagi tumbled heavily to the concrete; body broken, eyes lifeless, one more than the other. She would remember the screech of the car forever. Blood trickled from everywhere, coloring her crimson all over. Her hair, her face red, her uniform red. Her uniform...her mother would kill her for that. Or look at her with that disapproving glare and the sigh that said 'are you really my daughter?'

That was when she realized that she couldn't breathe. Her lungs felt like someone was pressing down on them, or someone was squeezing them in a vice and there was a certain drowning sensation that she couldn't quite place; her stomach felt bruised, like she had been punched a thousand times and then a thousand more. And her legs...she couldn't even feel her legs.

The gaggle of girls from her school were screaming and crying, an old man was calling an ambulance, but so was a middle aged women and most of the people inside the veterinary clinic. The driver of the blue sleek man's car shot out, but it wasn't a man but a woman – a young woman, having probably recently passed her driving test. She was crying too. Hysterical, in a panic.

Nagi closed her eyes tight. She was didn't want the attention. She hated the attention. Why was everyone looking at her? Why couldn't she retreat to her little world? Why was she the only one not in hysterics?

Her eyes slipped open again, but she could only see out of one of them. Her right eye was seeing nothing but black. That was alright, she supposed. As long as she had the other eye. It was blurred though and that was making her dizzy. Everything was unfocused and she couldn't concentrate on anything. Was her vision always this bad?

The last thing she remembered before falling unconscious was the red and blue flashing lights, the much too-loud noise of the siren and the little gray cat blinking out of existence.

Figures that it would be another one of her hallucinations.

She could have laughed.

But she didn't. Nagi didn't laugh. There was no one to laugh with, and she had heard that it was always better to laugh with someone.

She didn't want to wake up, but she could hear and feel everything around. The nurses checking her temperature or taking her blood; the IV being stuck into her arm, the beep beep beep of the heart monitor and the low hum of the life support machine. The doctor said something about removing her eye. Said that her lungs were punctured beyond repair and that some of her other organs had ruptured. Some internal bleeding, she heard. Broken ribs, broken legs, one dislocated arm, the other sprained and isn't it a miracle that she didn't break her neck?

Her mother had come to visit her and at first Nagi felt happy. At least her mother cared enough to come a see her when she was on the brink of death. But then her mother refused a transplant. Why should she give her organs to her only child? It was her own fault for chasing a cat into the road.

But wasn't the cat imaginary?

Her stepfather came to her defense, but that was brief. He was scared of a transplant too. Why should_ he_ give the girl his precious organs? They weren't even blood related. At that, Nagi was glad. She didn't want _his_ organs. She didn't even want his name. It was her mother who made her take his surname – saying it was the only proper thing to do.

Really, she didn't even want to be Nagi anymore.

In her mind she wasn't. She was someone else – a character she had invented when she first discovered her imagination. She had called her Chrome. She liked the way it sounded. It was a pretty name, she had decided at the young tender ages of four or five. Chrome was not boring or dull. She was not plain at all, but pretty, a little shy (Nagi could never quite get rid of her shyness, even in her imagination) and she could talk to others without feeling like they were trying to barge their way into her little world. Chrome had friends and she didn't need a family.

It was a pity, she decided, that she was still Nagi.

She hadn't become Chrome in her mind for a long time, but it was her final resort for comfort. If she could pretend to be anyone else then maybe the pain would go away.

It was then her imaginary world began to distort around her. Chrome began to bleed away, leaving Nagi in her place, and she blinked in shock. This new world – not something her own mind had ever created before – seemed peaceful but so much more vivid than what she was used to. It seemed like she had stepped into her own mind with how real the grass felt in between her toes, or how realistic the rustling of the leaves on tress would sound. With shaking hands, she reached out to touch the hospital bed that was there. Why was _that_ in her imagination? Come to think of it, why was her eye missing to? Her eye was always there in her fantasies, so why had it disappeared now?

And then she met him.

He called himself Rokudo Mukuro and she was immediately drawn to him. She couldn't explain it, but he felt like her. At first she thought that he was apart of her imagination – another one of her strange hallucinations. But then she realized that even she could not think up someone so eccentric and weird. For some reason, Nagi could talk to him – not like anyone else she had met before. He was charming, he was nice to her and he came to her claiming that they were the same.

Nagi was promised life in exchange for her body. She would be his vessel, his catalyst to the world because he was in prison somewhere. He explained to her that she wasn't hallucinating, and that when she thought hard enough her imagination would flesh out and become reality for as long as she wanted it. He called them illusions. She called it magic.

Mukuro told her that she had potential and that he would train her to reach that potential. He told her that with him she will never be alone. Nagi wanted to cry, but she didn't. She didn't want to be a crybaby.

_You aren't a crybaby_, he had told her. _But your eyes were always crying. They looked so sad._

She didn't know how to respond to that; she wanted to ask when he meant because she _never_ cried in front of people. And why was he speaking in past tense about them?

She believed him when he said that they were the same. After all, he had the same power as her but he was better at it. But soon, she told herself, soon she would be good at it too. She would be able to control her magic – her illusions. She wouldn't even run out into the road for a cat that she had unwittingly created, she would no longer see clowns cycling their unicycles in the streets, and she would look at the stars whenever she wanted to, not just when her mind was particularly out of touch with reality. She would be in control and this odd, odd Italian person would help her.

Nagi woke up in the hospital, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression on her face. Her body felt normal; her lungs were not crushed, stomach not punched. She could feel her legs. Languidly, she sat up almost like a zombie and cracked her neck. She looked around. This was intensive care. Rokudo Mukuro had told the truth. He had fixed her body.

She saw that she was hooked to numerous machines and there was a breathing tube down her throat. With a grimace, she screwed her eye shut and pulled it out, wanting to gag as she did so. She managed to hold down any bile or vomit that wanted to escape and went about pulling out the rest of the tubing system around her. An IV needle, life support – of which she had no hesitance pulling out. She trusted Mukuro to keep her safe, despite having only just met him.

Finally, she looked at the heart monitor. The beeping was just the same as it was when she was in her coma, but she could feel her heart beating faster and out of tune with it. She pinned that down to Mukuro's strange powers that she also seemed to posses. The only thing different about her since her accident, she noticed, was the bandage around her right eye.

_A reminder of what you once were_, a voice whispered in her head. She touched the bandage. Then she flung her legs over the side of the bed and touched the floor with shaky legs. Her head felt warm – content almost, like one would feel after eating just the right amount of food. It was something she had never experience before, because she could clearly feel the presence of Mukuro in her head. It felt foreign yet at the same time very familiar. It felt like companionship.

Her one eye landed on a metal weapon propped against the wall which she recognized to be a trident. Her brows furrowed and she reached out to touch it. It felt like Mukuro. The voice in her head told her to take it, to keep it safe and never let it break. She nodded slowly and held it in a tight grip in her hands. It felt good to hold, almost like a security blanket.

She peered at the metal, staring at her reflection in the shaft. One doe eye stared at her, but it looked different now.

It wasn't crying anymore.

The voice led her out of the hospital. Nobody noticed her go and nobody mentioned that she was wearing only the hospital gown or that she was clutching a weapon in her hands like a lifeline. Mukuro's voice told her that her had disguised her to the naked eye. Nagi couldn't see any difference.

_My dear, I was so caught up in the moment that I forgot to ask you your name_, Mukuro said inside her head. It was like he was speaking through a set of headphones in her ears.

Nagi hesitated. She didn't want to be the dull plain girl anymore. 'I...I have no name,' she decided in a soft voice.

Mukuro paused for a moment. _You say that, yet your mind whispers the name Nagi to me_, he said. _A name is but a name. Call yourself whatever you wish because now your life starts anew. The Nagi who was run down by a car because of an illusionary cat is dead. You are not her anymore. You can be anyone you want to._

She thought about it with a blink. Never before had she been given such a choice before. A name to be known by for the rest of her life. It was a rare opportunity, but a part of her knew exactly who she wanted to be. It may have been just a silly fantasy from her childhood, but couldn't she make it come true? Could she really become Chrome?

_Chrome?_ Mukuro hummed in her head

Nagi blushed when she realized that he heard her whole thought process. 'I-'

_Kufufu, no need to feel ashamed,_ he told her. _It's a very pretty name. Is that who you want to be?_

'I...Yes.'

_Then Chrome you shall be._ Nagi, no – Chrome smiled softly and Mukuro let out a chuckle. _It is almost as if we were destined to meet, my dear Chrome. Your chosen name just so happens to be an anagram of my own._

_Then maybe my surname should be too_, Chrome thought accidentally.

Mukuro laughed playfully. _If that is what you wish_.

Chrome's smile grew a little more confident. 'Chrome Dokuro,' she said aloud. It rolled of her tongue like it was meant to be and she couldn't help but feel giddy. She didn't care what she was getting herself into with this eccentric pineapple shaped Mukuro person, because she knew that he would look after her. She could feel it in her head. For the first time in her life, Chrome felt like she could actually make a friend.

_Perhaps we should get to know each other_, Mukuro hummed. _I mean, we are going to spend a lot of time together after all._

And with that, Chrome started to laugh.

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**- For those who don't know, Chrome's name in Japanese romaji is spelt _Kuromu_, which is an anagram of Mukuro! I'm not just pulling things out of my backside here, I swear ^^  
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**For some reason, I really liked writing this fic. It just came out naturally, and I love it when that happens! No writers block whatsoever for this one *stands proudly***

**I think it's an accurate representation of Chrome from when she was Nagi, but this is all based off thoery really. ^^  
**


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